Let's leave unsaid what's left unspoken.(Dean/Sam, oneshot)
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended. The boys belong to Kripke, CW and to each other.
Rating: PG13
Author: my_specialhell
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Summary: He wonders if Dean has already a plan or if he's going to accept it all, thinking that maybe he will stop looking, stop trying to save him
word count: 1.116
A/N: I'm not entirely satisfied with this...but here it is. Second day of my personal challenge:P. No betaed.
A/N 2: Set during Jus In Bello. Sam's POV, after Henricksen visit.
Never see his brother again.
Sam's heart does a crazy thing in his chest at those words, it's a painful leap, burning his ribcage for a moment, until he's reminded of Dean's presence, on his left, warm and real...
Alive.
Sam has stopped counting the days after what happened with the Trickster, now he just lives every hour, every minute, counting Dean's breaths at night, sometimes, the taste of fear and images from the tuesdays he lived, from the months without Dean at his side keeping him awake.
Henricksen knows what buttons to push, Sam has to give him that; he knows damn well they are not scared of prison. For the past few months Sam's priorities and fears have drastically shifted: Dean...and saving him, that's his driving force, what prompted him not to suck on the barrel of his gun after he had to see his brother’s corpse burn courtesy of the Trickster, after that fateful wesdnesday. Saving Dean is what makes things have some lick of sense in that clusterfuck his life has become.
Never see his brother again.
He feels Dean tense at Henricksen's words, his knee pressing against his, unconsciously, maybe, reassuring him...making him ache, inside, the rage in him simmering just beneath the surface and the worst of it is that rage is not the only thing simmering just beneath the surface, too many unsaid things, things that flashes behind his closed lids at night, things that are familiar to him, old and new, scary and breathtaking are there, needing release, pushing, stretching and Sam has to grit his teeth to keep it all at bay.
Now it’s not the time; he can’t afford to give into the almost blinding rage or the other feelings. Saving Dean, getting the hell out of that mess takes the precedence on anything else.
He wonders if Dean has already a plan or if he's going to accept it all, thinking that maybe he will stop looking, stop trying to save him. As if it was possible, as if he hadn't already lived without Dean...
As if he wouldn't rather die that feeling again that emptiness, that black hole swallowing him whole.
Never see his brother again.
He's tempted to snarl at the FBI agent's words, he's tempted to stake his claim on his brother right there, in front of the other man, just like he'd rip Lilith apart.
"You could get out of here" Dean says after a second, when they're alone.
Sam can't help snorting at his brother's words. Dean Winchester and his self sacrificing ass is apparently back in the building.
"Shut up, Dean!" Sam hisses.
Dean nudges him with his shoulder, and continues, "Just think about it: lay it all on me, who cares, Sammy?"
"I do!" Sam exclaims. He turns to look at his brother and forces himself to ignore what the look in Dean’s eyes, the calm in them does to him.
"I'm just saying..." Dean starts, but Sam interrupts him saying, “I don’t wanna hear it”
Dean sighs and shakes his head, “You’re being…”
“What, Dean?” Sam snaps, he moves on the bunk and the chains holding them rattle, “what am I being?”
“You know that I’m right. It’s me Henricksen want busted” Dean says and Sam would deck him for how calm and matter of factly he sounds. He hates how Dean seems to completely overlook his own safety, his own life. Apparently Dean thinks he has found a way out for him, not even bothering to think about himself.
“You could weasel your way out, Sammy…” Dean says…and Sam shakes his head.
“I’m not going anywhere…” Sam says, and neither are you.
Dean opens his mouth to say something, but Sam’s hand goes to his knee and presses, hard. What does Dean expect?
“This is not a debate, Dean!” Sam says. “we’ll get out of this together or…”
Dean rolls his eyes, he moves, resting his head against the wall and closes his eyes for a moment, the silence is almost eerie, and Sam’s heart leaps in his chest. He doesn’t like seeing Dean’s shoulders slump like that, he doesn’t like how his Adam’s apple is bobbing, as if Dean is swallowing something bitter, heavy.
“Dean…” He tries.
Dean lets out a breathe and says in a low voice, “Let it go, Sam…” he tilts his head toward him and opens his eyes; he looks tired, Sam recalls of a time, when they were kids, when Dean seemed bigger than life, invincible and he had had to run away …when lines had begun to blur.
“I can’t…” He says, his voice is as low as Dean’s, their knees are pressed together, he feels Dean’s warmth and just like Dean, he rests his back against the wall, “just…can’t, man.”
Dean is still looking at him and Sam is trying hard, so hard, to remember why he isn’t supposed to want, to need…and he’s failing miserably. He wants, needs so much that he doesn’t care they’re in a prison cell, shackled, with a snowball chance in hell to get out of there that time…and he knows , Dean must be feeling the same; he knows because he’s been reading Dean all his life…and they’ve mastered that game long ago.
He doesn’t know how long they stare at each other, the silence thick between them, ripe with years of denied images and words and Sam thinks it’d be simple, to move, just a inch and for a moment he reads the same certainty in Dean’s eyes. It’d be simple, it’d take just a heartbeat, a breathe to cross an invisible line.
He’s not surprised when it’s Dean who breaks the moment, his older brother looks away, his jaw clenched, his name on his lips like a plea. He isn’t even aware of his hand moving, to grab Dean’s, at first, not until Dean startles, still avoiding his gaze, but he doesn’t pull away. He wants to say something, needs to, but he knows what Dean reaction would be.
Or at least so he thinks until Dean says, “When we get out of here Bela is going down”
When we get out of here…
Dean looks at him and Sam knows he’s not lying. They will find a way to get out of there…or die trying…
Dean squeezes his hand before letting it go and there are things Sam wants to say, and all he can breathe is his brother, and the hope he’s feeling is almost painful, instead he nods at his brother and manages a smile and it hurts, like hoping, like all that’s left unspoken, simmering, burning just beneath the surface.